For eloquentwthrage

Of auld, Rich Samson's small, almost straight brain
could not conceive a past in which we two
gay siblings could our randy selves restrain
from rogering each other. Yes, it's true
that we explored our bodies to the point
of my kissing your ass, though you refused
reciprocation. (Now, reverse anoint-
ing I decline.) I never was enthused
about your face or form; but let me say
with shying, consanguineous modesty,
that you, mon frère, shine like the light of day
on undeserving, rank humanity:
You were and are quite beautiful; and I,
your homely brother, still cannot but sigh.

Do you have a boyfriend?

No, I said, and variously qualified thus: I have a couple that's sort of adopted me as a sometime playmate, and they're awesome. I have an ex-boyfriend who's still very important to me. I'm not really good with standard two-person relationships. And you?

I am teh LJ poster

I like to tell this story every once in a while: the eventual crazy person Daniel Frank McMullen shewed me, circa 1987, the glory of Cocteau Twins. At the time, of course, everything was on cassette, and nothing had a real name. Enamoured of the record Daniel played me, I walked into Tower Records in Philadelphia and made bold to ask the counter help for counter help. The wonderful woman serving thus pointed me in the general direction of Cocteau Twins, but I wanted a particular record. I said to her, The one that starts, [singing] 'Pay pah, pay strand, pando, pompadour...'

And she immediately said, 'That's Treasure.'

Bless her and her offspring eternally. Amen.

A clarification.

bistet is one of the world's most wonderful people, and any inadvertent suggestions on my part to the contrary are just stoopit.

Out in the garden...

... on the one side they're shooting a porno, two black guys fucking; on the other, Steven Blank is doing a solo shoot of a gorgeous, hung young man. I'm sitting in my room, mildly annoyed that it's not me out there doing the shooting.